Our short, sweet trip to Poppi had some of the most meaningful moments for me on this journey.  The mountain air was crisp and a fine mist hung heavy even when it wasn’t raining.  No tourists walked the quiet streets.  We all felt compelled to whisper.  Views of the unforgettable mountain landscape rolled on forever, be-speckled in a red and yellow late spring bloom, tiny homes tucked away in places few will wander.

 

You’d notice some of those houses for sale on our happy, muddy walk to Castle Romana.  We swallowed the lumps in our throats with our dreams, for now, and laughed at each other, wondering who would slip first.  (It was probably going to be me but it was Emily.)  We were all glad for the walk after even a short bus ride, and proud of how strong this trip has made us.  I’ll never forget that walk through the beautiful countryside I wanted to camp in on my free day, had I not gone to Venice.  It reminded me of growing up on my grandparents’ mountain lake.

 

We were a good group in Poppi.  We missed Firenze but we had come together as a family by this time.

 

The Italian language and culture lessons with Giana, Alina, and Carlo, where we learned to describe ourselves and each other, were comfortable and fun.  Duolingo can never teach what an afternoon talking and laughing can.  Everything was first said in Italian, and then translated into English bit by bit.  I love being able to understand parts of lectures and conversations, and the longer we are here the more we understand without a second guess.  The Italian language spoken is my new favorite sound; I want to hear it all day and in my dreams.

 

I will teach English as a foreign language here someday, when all the stars align. Watching them teach was an inspiration—as was watching others learn and grow.  I was told I could come back to Poppi to take classes at the language school.  This possibility now feels real, and if I could infuse Poppi into a fragrance—I’d call it Hope.

 

Madison, Bonnette, and I found Oratorio Della Madonna Contro Il Morbo (Our Lady Against the Plague) wandering, looking for a church to sing in.  That evening was the 4th year anniversary of Bonnette’s father’s passing.  The following morning marked one month since my grandfather left the material world and became a part of me.  Though spiritual, I am not the kind of person who typically lights candles in churches or prays for peace.  Standing in that particular church watching that candle flicker put God and Grandpa in the same place again.  The caretaker was closing the church, but he kindly took the time to ask what language we spoke and explain its sacred history.

 

Some interesting facts about Oratorio Della Madonna Contro Il Morbo include: It was built as an homage to the Virgin for protection from the plague.  The main part of the church was built from 1657-1659, and the dome (like the Duomo) wasn’t finished until 1705.  One of the paintings inside, “Three Saints: St. Joseph, St. Anthony of Padua and St. Torello of Poppi” was found in a repository in the Pitti Palace, across from where we stayed in Firenze.

 

I needed a full night of sleep, and I slept hard.  I wasn’t prepared for the suffocating sadness the next morning brought, but I worked through it.  If he’d been with me the entire trip—why was he suddenly so much more gone now that I was officially marking time?

 

Climbing the tower at the Castello dei Conti Guidi was one of the biggest fears I had to overcome in Italy, and I never would have been able to do that (or any of this) without his gift of unbelievable strength.  When that fear was conquered, I stepped outside and strangely enough (on this trip anyway) the sun was shining.

 

We had another great language lesson, and the best pizza I ever had at the same cafe that made the best burger I ever had—and I could laugh again.

 

Later, hearing the voices of Madison and Bonnette rise up from the quiet reverence of the chapel to sing “Hallelujah” and “Amazing Grace” uplifted me.  Suddenly, I wondered what I should be reading to try to understand the God I always push away and found again for a few small moments.  If I ever do get to go take language lessons in Poppi, I would also love to go back to that small church, sit in its silence, and learn to pray for peace and protection from the plague of uncertainty.